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  I give him a tentative smile and he looks surprised, but then smiles back. His badge reads Officer Romero. He’s short but has a very muscular build. I’m not sure if he could catch me if I tried to run past him, but he would absolutely squash me if he did. Obviously, I need a different tactic.

  “So, what happened?” I ask, playing dumb.

  Romero shakes his head, and his black mustache grows much wider when he frowns. “This is a murder scene.” He looks down at the way the tape is pressed against my stomach as I try to see past him again. “Which is why you really need to stay back.”

  I take one step away and smile again. He watches me closer now than before, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I walk back a bit and then slide to the area where the police tape attaches to the wall of the building. It’s a different officer on this side. He’s drinking a coffee and has his back to me. Maybe I can find a way through here …

  Before I get a chance to try it, there is some motion in the alley. I hold my breath, hoping they bring someone past in handcuffs. Someone I can hate from a distance as the city apologizes and releases Daddy from Polunsky. Instead, a couple of officers roll out a big black bag on a stretcher toward the waiting Houston City Coroner truck only fifteen feet away from me.

  My blood turns cold and I feel nauseous. It’s a body bag. Nothing about this feels like TV and I can’t believe I’d wanted it to feel real. There’s a murdered woman in that bag who was probably alive just last night. My knees buckle and only the brick wall next to me keeps me from losing my balance. How could I have been excited about coming here? How could this be a thing that had made me feel hopeful?

  What kind of freak had my life turned me into?

  At the same time, at the back of my mind I keep wondering if somehow that bag holds the answers we need. The officers who brought it out turn and go back into the alley. The only person guarding the body bag is in black scrubs and banging stuff around inside the coroner’s truck.

  Drawing in one quick breath, I push aside any sick urge to see the body and instead decide to check around back near the alley. An insane curiosity gets the better of me. Maybe the killer dropped something. No officers assigned to the crowd are looking my way, so I grab hold of the tape and duck under it.

  Before I even make it all the way to the other side, a strong hand grips my elbow and jerks me back. I grunt in surprise as someone pulls me away. I flip around to see who it is and the only thing I know for sure is that it’s definitely a man. He’s wearing a tailored gray coat and a hat pulled low around his ears. I open my mouth to scream, but then he pivots to face me and holds one finger up in front of my eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve brought quite enough attention on yourself already today, Miss Riley?”

  I jerk back as I recognize the blue eyes looking out at me from the shade of his hat. I’m so shocked I have to blink a few times to make sure it’s him. “Mr. Masters? Wha—you—?”

  “Yes, eloquently put.” He gives me a wry smile before looking over my shoulder. “Now, kindly follow me to my car before anyone else decides to look our way.”

  He walks two feet, but I don’t take another step. When I speak I can hear the slight whine in my voice. “I have my own car. And I’m here because I need to know what’s happening.”

  With a sigh, he gestures for me to follow him a few feet to a spot where the TV vans block our view of the police. “And did you learn anything important so far?”

  “Well, no…”

  “And you won’t, Miss Riley.” He slips an arm around my shoulders and starts guiding my reluctant feet toward his car again. “At least come and let me explain a couple of things to you before you make a mistake that you can’t take back.”

  When I don’t move, he whispers low in my ear, “The second you cross that tape, the officers guarding it will push you back. If you happen to make it to anything important, they would catch you and charge you with tampering with evidence.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Mr. Masters,” I say hotly. “I know that’s a possibility.”

  “Are you planning on following in your father’s footsteps early, then? He may not have broken the law, but it seems you plan to. Why even wait until graduation? Let’s go on a crime spree.” His tone has an edge of disappointment, and it stings to hear it.

  I stop responding because he never talks to me this way, and it hurts to have someone who always watches out for me snub me like this … especially when I can see now that he has a point.

  I look back toward the crime scene one more time and see Chief Vega leaning out from the alley and squinting toward the coroner’s truck.

  The moment I see his face, I duck down and follow Mr. Masters quickly through the crowd and around the corner.

  As soon as we’re in his blue BMW, he starts the air conditioner and then turns to me. He tilts back his hat and I can see concern in his eyes, along with that look that tells me he’s thinking hard about something.

  “I’m sorry for treating you like this, but you need to start thinking straight.” His tone is stern; his eyes plead with me to listen.

  “Well, that’s not the best apology I’ve ever heard.” I drop my chin and glare at him.

  “Okay, let’s see how badly this scenario could’ve played out, shall we?” He lifts one eyebrow in a challenge.

  “That’s really not—”

  “Let’s say you make it across and actually get to the body. What do you see?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think that’s where I was going.” I sigh, then decide to play along. “Maybe I would see the same types of injuries from the first murders—”

  “Which would be reported to me anyway without you going to jail, but continue. Anything else?” His voice is soft but firm.

  “I don’t know, maybe I could find something in the alley they didn’t see.” I’m starting to feel less sure that coming here was a good idea with each answer I give.

  “Doubtful because they’re trained professionals, but even if you did, then what?”

  “I’d tell you.”

  “Okay, so you would call me from the police station where they’re holding you until your mother gets there…” His words drift off and he waits.

  I stop responding. Leaning forward, I rub my forehead against my hands.

  “It gets so much worse, Miss Riley. This is just the beginning.” He continues. “Let’s say you somehow are the one to find the key to proving your father’s innocence. Except you forgot something. Your dad isn’t even a suspect in this crime. Being in Polunsky gives him the best alibi known to mankind. So, since they can’t look at your dad for this, the first thing they’ll look for is a copycat.”

  I may not show it, but I’m following every word and my whole body starts to feel cold even in the hot sunlight.

  “They’ll look first for people who might be close to the man they believe is the original East End Killer. Someone not in jail who has an excellent motive to want to cast doubt on the state’s case, someone who loves him and visits him all the time.” He now looks sympathetic.

  “Maybe someone who’s terrified that he’ll be executed in three weeks?” I mutter under my breath, trying to shake the fear from the tale he’s weaving for me.

  “Exactly. And then you go and place yourself at the crime scene and start tampering with evidence? You’re now in jail. He’s still going to be executed because with your tampering they can’t even consider the evidence here anymore. Not sure about you, but that’s certainly not the happy ending I’m looking for.” He squeezes my shoulder and shakes his head. “Riley, do me a favor and just try to make them look a little before volunteering to be the next easy mark they can pin a murder on, will you?”

  I reach over and give him a tight hug, knowing he’s completely right. Coming here had been stupid. I’d let the need to do something override any common sense. “Thanks. I didn’t realize how bad it could have been.”

  “I know you didn’t.” He leans away, and I see a bit of fear in his ey
es now as he shakes his head. “This is no game. You can ask all the questions you want of me, of your parents, but now is the time you need to trust me the most. I’ve been fighting for your father as long as you have with very few weapons at my disposal. This morning, someone handed me a loaded gun and only twenty-one days to use it.”

  “You think this will finally give us some of the proof we’ve been looking for?” I clench my hands against my sides.

  He winks and pats my shoulder. “The way this looks right now, I’m gonna give them hell or die trying.”

  13

  ON THE DRIVE HOME I bite my nails, thinking how close I’d come to landing myself in a heap of trouble. Everything feels upside down today and it isn’t even noon yet. The sick feeling in my stomach is almost as bad as my hangover had been.

  Hangover …

  My world comes crashing down as I remember my own confession to Jordan. I close my eyes and groan as I make a quick right turn. At the next stoplight, I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up Jordan’s info—which is now filed under a very different name. I send him a text just before the light turns green.

  Meet me at the park. 20 minutes.

  Two minutes tick by without a response. I wait, listening for my text notification as I drive and focusing on breathing slowly. Maybe he’d given up on me. Maybe he didn’t want to see me again after I hadn’t responded. Maybe—

  Then my phone dings and I glance down at the screen.

  Massive Jerk: I’ll be there.

  The sound from the text echoes in my head long after it stops. It sounded more like a death knell.

  * * *

  I wait in the park for Jordan to arrive. The sky above is filled with ominous clouds. Rain in Texas is not something to trifle with. That’s fine. I want to keep this short anyway. The idea of seeing him again already fills me with a bittersweet pain. I’d been so wrong to think we have anything in common. Our lives couldn’t be more different. We couldn’t be more different.

  People believe Chief Vega is someone to admire and look up to. He works hard to keep us all safe—or at least that’s what everyone thinks. When Jordan and Matthew support their father, they’re heroes. They’re martyrs for sacrificing time with him for the good of the community.

  But when I support my father, I’m a monster. The same people call my father a murderer. He is the lowest of the low and we are either sick or foolish for believing him and standing by him when he tells us again and again that he’s innocent.

  Devotion counts for little once the world has made up its mind about you.

  I see a big dark motorcycle pull in and recognize Jordan’s wavy black hair from across the park when he tugs off his helmet. He pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on his face, despite the lack of sunshine. When he gets to me, I silently watch him from my spot on the swing. I’m not at all sure where to start.

  “I’m glad you texted me.” His face is hard to read with his eyes hiding behind the sunglasses, and he keeps his head straight ahead instead of looking down toward me. All I see when I search his face is the reflection of the dark sky above.

  “We need to talk.” I force the words out before we can get sidetracked. “I know you said you haven’t told anyone, but this morning it became really important that you don’t.” I push off my tiptoes, swinging closer to him, and then reach up for his sunglasses. He freezes as I pull them down on his nose until I can see his warm brown eyes. “Please, Jordan. You can’t tell anyone what I said—ever.”

  He doesn’t respond. I wait for a few seconds, deciding I need to hear him speak the words. To say out loud that he won’t tell anyone, but a new thought occurs to me and my breath catches in my throat. “You haven’t told your father since we talked last, have you?”

  “No.” He pulls the glasses the rest of the way off his face and they dangle from his fingers.

  “Good.” I somehow feel more empty and miss Jordan more than before he came. “I hope you’re telling the truth.”

  Jordan’s voice floats to me as I head toward the grass, but his words hold a weight that flattens my heart like a rolling boulder. “We should talk about this morning, Riley.”

  I stop walking. “Why?”

  He crosses to me immediately. Worry, guilt, and sorrow play across his features. I don’t know which I trust to be real. “Why won’t you just talk to me? I’ve known about your dad’s confession almost as long as you have and I haven’t told a soul yet—even though we both know my dad would want to know. What would prove my loyalty to you more than that?”

  “Maybe telling me the truth from the start?” I shake my head. “We’ve already discussed my father way more than we should have.”

  He reaches out and rests a hand on my shoulder. It sends an unexpected shiver through me. “I just want to help you, Riley. Besides, Dad insisted on heading up this new case. He’ll have to look at the evidence and decide whether this is the same killer, won’t he? Does what your dad said even matter anymore?”

  “Chief Vega insisted on it, did he? Well, that’s just super.” My defenses immediately rise like walls against the enemy. “Go ahead, assign the one cop to the case who actually benefited from putting my father in prison. Like he’s going to be interested in looking for the evidence that says he made a huge mistake in the first place.”

  Jordan inhales sharply. He doesn’t speak, but he refuses to look at me, studying the park around us instead. I think over my words, regretting them instantly but not taking them back. I meant what I said, but I hadn’t been trying to hurt Jordan.

  “Listen…,” I finally say, but he doesn’t let me get any further than that.

  “My father is a good man, and he knows he’s capable of making mistakes.” Jordan’s eyes are on me and I can’t look away from their intensity. “I promise that he doesn’t want to put the wrong man in jail. He would never want that. Besides, from what your dad told you, it seems his so-called bias about your dad being guilty may have been right all along.”

  His words rip the wind from my lungs. When I speak again, my voice comes out smaller than I want. “Fine. I don’t know what to think anymore, okay? I need to know the truth. There is still a good chance my dad could be executed in three weeks and I’m running out of time. If you tell your father that he confessed to me—”

  “I don’t know. It seems like a confession is something he’d want to know now. And how would telling my dad change anything?” Jordan steps in front of me until I have no choice but to look at him. This time there’s a hint of remorse in his eyes.

  “Come on. Don’t be naïve.” I can tell the words bite as I say them, but he has to know better than this. “Your father is investigating whether he could’ve been wrong when he worked on this case initially. He could believe my father has maintained his innocence the entire eleven years, or he could believe that he confessed one time to being guilty. You don’t see how that could make an incredibly big difference to the way he considers evidence? You have to admit that you can see what I’m saying.”

  Jordan looks away. I swallow hard—there’s no denying that we both have solid points. I’m only slightly surprised to find that the idea of having someone to talk to about all of this feels more comforting to me than confining.

  “Three weeks, Jordan.” I look up at him, pleading. “You of all people have to understand this. If you needed me to keep a secret for three weeks that could’ve saved your mom’s life, what would you have done to convince me?”

  He sighs and drops his chin to his chest before answering. “You said you need to know the truth. You don’t want me to tell anyone. Let me help and I won’t. What are you planning to do?”

  “Isn’t this considered blackmail?” I glare at him as the sky over our heads rumbles.

  “I don’t want it to be.” His expression softens. His hand reaches out to brush the tips of my fingers before falling back to his side. “Please, Riley, let me make my mistake up to you. Let me help.”

  I look
away. Fear of letting him get close enough to hurt me again wars with a betraying sense of hope at the idea of spending more time with him. I tug my fingers through my hair and sigh. “It sounds like I don’t really have a choice.”

  “Then what’s the plan?” Jordan’s frown doesn’t leave his face as he nods. It might not be the response he was looking for, but it’s all I can give him right now.

  I blow out a puff of air. “To start, I’m going to try to force my parents to tell me the truth about what happened twelve years ago that could have landed us in this situation now. I have to know how their marriage was, what he was like before prison, and most importantly whether anyone who knew him actually believed that Daddy was capable of murder. That begins with talking to my mom as soon as she’s home today and going to visit my father tomorrow. From now on, no more keeping me in the dark.”

  14

  WHEN I WALK THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, Mama jumps up from the couch and my first thought is that someone died. She’s at home? In the middle of the day? I literally don’t remember that happening—ever. I hesitate to come in because I’m not sure I can handle any more unwelcome revelations without cracking.

  She smiles and suddenly I know exactly why she’s home right now.

  “You heard?” I say, closing the door behind me.

  Mama walks across the room to me. “It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

  Mama grips my shoulders with her long, thin fingers, and they feel like a vise. She looks happier than I’ve seen her in as long as I can remember, so I slap a smile on my face. I feel queasy at the idea that we’re celebrating something that involved a woman’s death, but we’ve had so little hope for so long that I refuse to take this moment away from her.

  “I can’t believe we finally have something like this to fight back with,” she whispers.

  I hug her before guiding her back to the couch and sitting down beside her.

  She puts her arm around me and kisses my forehead. “We need to have the biggest celebration ever, if—or perhaps when—your father finally comes home to us.”